


Numb

by abigailsden



Series: Bethyl Week [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2269821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailsden/pseuds/abigailsden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Day 3 of Bethyl Week</p><p>Prompt: Numb and 'She is the sunlight' by Trading Yesterday</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numb

_'She lives in a daydream/Where I don’t belong’_

_‘Cause she is tomorrow/And I am today’_

_‘Cause she is the healing/And I am the pain’_

 

After investigating the basement, they found a room on the ground floor to settle down in. Another funeral parlour with an open coffin and candles and that same calm stillness to it. Beth found the pervasive atmosphere of sanctity in the funeral home comforting; Daryl felt unnerved by it. But even she would admit that she didn’t much like the idea of sharing a room with a corpse, however beautifully preserved.

Beth sat herself down on the couch positioned close to the door; mahogany with fine white satin upholstery that she couldn’t help but discretely run her fingers over, liking the sensation of it against her skin.

Beth cast her eyes about the room. “They have a piano.” She observed brightly, a wistful edge to her tone. Daryl set down his crossbow on one of the nearby chairs and she propped her leg up in front of her. He crouched down by her foot, retrieving the bandage roll from his pocket.

“We had a piano, back at the farm.” She began to explain, her voice tinged with sadness. But as difficult as it was, she liked talking about her old life. Her family. The good memories helped to remind her what she was surviving for.

“My mom was the musical one. Some evenings, one of us’d play and we’d all sing old songs together.” She sighed, not altogether unhappily. The good memories gave her something else to feel other than that terrible gaping emptiness. And there was always that persistent hope at the back of her mind that maybe; just maybe, something she said would get Daryl to open up to her again. She knew he was cagey for good reasons, but she wanted to help. It was almost as if she felt she owed it to him. But there was more to it than that.

While she had been talking, he had slid off her boot. “How’s it feel?” he asked, holding her foot in his hand and putting a little pressure on her ankle.  
She flexed her foot tentatively. “Little numb, but I think I’ll live.” She reassured him, catching his gaze and holding it for a few moments.

He soon looked back down, concentrating on removing her sock without letting his fingers graze against her skin. Daryl didn’t fit into Beth’s cosy image of her old life and he knew it. If she wanted that life back, she had another thing coming. He wasn’t about to join in with some damn sing-along. Hell, he’d rather be picked apart by walkers first.

“Back then, sometimes I thought it was kinda dumb.” Beth admitted, the sadness seeping back into her voice. “Now I’d give anything to get that back.” She added quietly.

Hearing her tone drop, Daryl paused his careful wrapping for a moment. Perhaps; perhaps they could have something here. Something different, but something all the same. Beth would have her piano and he’d have Beth. Perhaps they could learn to be happy.

“Do you mind if I play something?” Beth asked, her tone brightening again and disrupting his thoughts. Daryl looked up at her. Beth was gazing hopefully at him with that open, trustful expression that was now uncomfortably familiar.  
She was so damned polite all the time, and he almost wanted to scowl at her. But he didn’t.  
“Knock yerself out.” He replied gruffly, as if he didn’t care either way. But Beth knew that coming from Daryl, it was practically approval, and she couldn’t pretend to herself that she wasn’t a little surprised.  
He straightened up from his crouching position. “Bandage should help with the swelling.”  
“Thank you.” She could have done it herself, but without discussion it had been decided that he would do it for her. That was just Daryl.  
“I best go nail this place up.”

Beth smiled to herself a little once Daryl left the room. She knew she was getting to him, even if he didn’t. After all, today he had almost been friendly.

She sat down at the piano, letting her fingers trail over the keys. Not even the finest layer of dust coated them, she noted. As she flexed her fingers, trying to decide on what to play first, she abruptly realised something. She hadn’t been reminded of those good memories because she was sad. She had been reminded of them because she was happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently feet were a recurring theme for me during Bethyl Week. Which is weird, since I feel pretty neutral about feet, as body parts go. Anyway...


End file.
